Evenstar
by Scoliosis
Summary: AU. The daughter of Elessar and Eowyn journeys into the past after her father's suicide in order to remedy a mistake that altered Middle earth and might lead to the destruction of Gondor. Unfortunately, by doing so, she might cease to exist. Not an MS.
1. Chapter One

_Disclaimer: All stories, songs, plots, characters, places, poems, etc. that you recognize in this story from any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works belong strictly to J.R.R. Tolkien. I do not own any of them._

Minis Tirith glowed white in the sunlight, as though the beloved citadel of Gondor radiated joy over the birth of the newest addition to the royal household. Whispered rumors and joyful shouts spread across the city as citizens excitedly predicted the gender of the newborn infant. Celebration was held within the King's household, as well as among the common folk, merchants, and nobles. However, amidst the city's excitement, there were two individuals who did not share in the abundant joy: the king and his oldest daughter.

* * *

As the hours passed, the young, dark-haired girl resting outside the king's palace made a startling discovery: her father neither loved her nor cared for her. This realization caused a gasp to escape her lips. Of course, she had always known her father's indifference toward her, perhaps as early as her fourth year of age. Throughout her life, although her father had been by her side in body, he had never been so in heart or mind. Her suspicion that her father did not care for her or her mother was confirmed when the man was not present for his fourth child's birth.

Startled by this fact, the girl had abandoned the confines of her home and escaped to the outdoors to clear her thoughts. Resting her head in her hands, she sighed, biting her lip to fight the onslaught of tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. _I should be happy and content_, she told herself, swallowing. _I am the **daughter **of the **king**, and have everything that I could possibly need. _"Everything but his love," she muttered, brushing pieces of broken stone from her gown and rising to her feet. _Mother will need me inside_, she realized, hastening toward the palace entrance.

Upon entering, the girl was caught in a bustling sea of servants, midwives, and relatives scattering about the palace in search of various objects needed by the exhausted queen. "Fæderwynn," a loud voice boomed, echoing throughout the busy corridors. "Come this way. Your mother wishes to see you."

"I am coming," Fæderwynn answered, gazing up at the lady in waiting who towered above her. Named Talvelwen, the woman had become a close friend of her queen's throughout the years of her service to the woman. Unfortunately, Talvelwen often took it upon herself to raise the oldest daughter of the royal household, and as a result, Fæderwynn often found herself chastised or disciplined by the older woman. _She is not that terrible, though_, Fæderwynn thought to herself as she followed behind the lady in waiting. _She has done a good job of keeping me away from trouble throughout the years._

Within minutes, the pair reached the Queen's chambers, Talvelwen entering first, followed by a very distraught Fæderwynn. "Mother!" the girl explained, rejecting propriety and running to her mother's side. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine," the queen answered, long tendrils of blonde hair plastered to her face by sweat. Frowning, the woman asked, "Have you any word of where your father is?" Her blue eyes were wide and full of fear as she waited for her daughter's answer, her arms shaking.

"I have not seen him," Fæderwynn answered softly, studying the floor. "I do not know where he is." The queen sighed, closing her eyes. When the woman looked up once more, Fæderwynn was surprised to find tears in her mother's eyes. "Mother, what is wrong?"

Wiping the corners of her eyes, the queen took a deep breath and smiled. "Nothing is wrong, love. Nothing." Turning her gaze toward the open window, she added, "It is growing late, and night will soon be falling. You should return to your rooms and get some rest."

Biting her lip, Fæderwynn nodded, leaving the room in a flurry of skirts. She stopped as she saw her younger sister running down the hall toward their mother's room. "Fæderwynn!" the younger girl gasped, breathing heavily. "How is mother?"

"She is fine," Fæderwynn lied, smiling. "You may go and see her—she is still awake." As her sister left to visit the exhausted queen, Fæderwynn could not help but wonder, _Where is Father?_

* * *

"Fæderwynn!"

_A beautiful woman stood glowing in the moonlight, raven-hark hair spilling down her back as she gracefully stepped across the ground. She appeared as though she was floating, rather than walking, her loving gaze directed toward a man nearby. "Estel," the ethereal woman breathed, finally embracing the waiting man. _

_Clouds shifted, and moonlight filtered onto the pair, exposing their faces. **Father!** Fæderwynn gasped, recognizing the man's face. _

"_Fæderwynn!"_

Opening her eyes suddenly, Fæderwynn found herself face to face with Eruanneth, the servant who was given the task of attending her. Beside the woman stood Talvelwen, her eyes blank and empty. "Good, you are awake," Eruanneth muttered, studying the tired girl's face. "Come, it is time for you to get up."

Fæderwynn frowned tiredly, studying the window in confusion. "It is still night," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Your mother requested that you dress and meet her in her chambers," Eruanneth answered, opening a dresser drawer and removing a plain, blue gown. "Is this suitable?"

Fæderwynn nodded, allowing the woman to help her slip into the dress. "What has happened?" she asked, feeling vulnerable and terrified as she became more aware and less tired.

Eruanneth swallowed, glancing up at Talvelwen, who quickly shook her head "no." "I am sorry, my lady," the servant sighed, quickly running a brush through Fæderwynn's dark hair and plaiting it into a braid. "You will have to wait till you see your mother for that news."

Moments later, Fæderwynn found herself in her mother's chambers, all nerves on edge as she stood against the wall, another face in a sea of servants, ladies in waiting, guards, and nobles. She eyed her mother questioningly, hoping that the woman would finally tell her what terrible thing had befallen their family. Before she could ask her mother for an explanation, a young healer entered the room, face devoid of all expression.

"What news?" the queen demanded, tiredly handing her newborn daughter to a nursemaid. "How is he?"

"Lady Eowyn," the healer began, swallowing. "May I please speak with you alone?" Nodding, the queen exited the room, a heavy silence settling within the room.

"Fæderwynn, what has happened?" a small, dark haired girl asked, glancing up at Fæderwynn with wide, gray eyes. "Is father sick?"

"I do not know, Wicglufað," Fæderwynn answered, biting back tears.

Moments later, a cry sounded outside. The queen reemerged, tears glittering in her eyes. "He is dead," she muttered, staring at the opposite wall. "He fell upon his sword and died."

* * *

Fæderwynn had never loved the color black. It reminded her of death and of mourning, of suffering and of grief. However, as she stood beside the tomb of her father, she was thankful for the black gown that she had been required to wear to the late king's funeral procession. She felt safe; shielded from the world and from its terrors.

Swallowing, she mumbled, "I am sorry father, for whatever caused you to bring about your own death. I am so sorry. I wish that I could have given you some happiness, but it was not to be." She frowned, unheeding of the tears that escaped her eyes and fell upon her gown. "But, I wonder about one thing: why would you kill yourself?"

"He loved another," a voice answered suddenly. Whirling around, Fæderwynn found herself staring up at a tall figure wearing a gray cloak. "He loved another."

Intrigued, Fæderwynn asked, "What do you mean? Did he not love the Lady Eowyn?" She searched the face of the stranger for any signs of pity or compassion, but could find no such traces of feeling in the features of the stranger, face obscured by a large hood.

Sighing, the figure answered, "Child, his love ever rested beyond the sea."

Troubled, Fæderwynn thought, _My father loved the sea? _

As if sensing her thoughts, the man said, "He was in love with Arwen Undomiel, the only daughter of Elrond Peredhel, the former lord of Imladris." A moment of silence followed, before the stranger added, "My sister."

Fæderwynn stared at the figure in shock, becoming more alarmed by the minute. "_Who are you_?" she asked cautiously, backing away from the stranger.

"You look like him," the stranger murmured, studying the young girl before him. "You have his eyes, his face . . . Yet, things are not as they should be, I feel. You should not exist, yet you do."

"_Who are you_?" Fæderwynn demanded, voice rising in volume. "What do you know of my father?" _For I barely knew him_.

The stranger pulled back his hood, revealing a pale, chiseled face framed by long, dark hair that had been braided into elaborate designs. _He is just another man_, Fæderwynn thought, relief beginning to flood through her body. _And I thought he was a ghost or—_ All thoughts of the man's "normalcy" left as Fæderwynn found herself staring into the stranger's eyes. _Old, young, and like the stars . . . _she thought, forgetting to breathe momentarily. _He is **not **human. _Only then did she notice the man's strangely shaped ears, which sloped upward into a barely noticeable point. "You're an elf," she gasped, eyes growing wide.

He nodded, a frown marring his perfect countenance. "I am Elrohir, son of Elrond. I am—was—your father's foster brother. Although," he paused, finishing, "he was like a brother of blood to me, to us all . . ." His eyes filled with grief as he gazed at the tomb of the now-dead king.

"He was my father," Fæderwynn mumbled, staring at the finely crafted stone covering that had been carved to resemble her dead father. _Cold and hard, like him_, she realized, observing the carving. "I barely knew him." Gazing up at the elf, whose height was several feet higher than her own, she added, "I believe you; he did love another. So much so that . . ." She stopped. "He did not come to my youngest sister's birth." _They said mother was cursed, bearing only daughters and no sons . . ._

The elf remained silent, his gaze still resting on the tomb of Elessar, former king of Gondor. "Estel," he muttered, turning away.

"Estel?" Fæderwynn asked, confusion written on her face. "What does that mean?"

"It means 'hope' in my tongue," he answered. "It was your father's name when—" He stopped, shaking his head. "I have no time to explain Estel's life to you. I come to you now with a warning: The Corsairs of Umbar plan to attack Gondor."

"_What?_" Mouth open in shock, Fæderwynn turned toward her father's tomb, dumbstruck. _This is only a dream, nothing more_, she thought, closing her eyes. _Soon, I will wake up. _

"They come now, and with the king now dead, Gondor and Arnor are left defenseless," Elrohir stated, frowning.

"What would you have me do?" Fæderwynn demanded, eyes wide with fright. "I have not the means to solve this problem!" What could she do? She was only a young woman who had barely begun her sixteenth year of life, and had skills with neither war nor weapons. _What does he expect me to do? _she wondered, on the verge of panic. "How do you know that they will attack?"

" I have seen them," the elf answered, once again donning his hood. "As to what you are to do? I know not; that is your choice." His voice was bitter, resigned, cold.

"If my father had married this woman you spoke of, your sister," Fæderwynn began, studying the pavement, "this would never have been. Father would still be alive and his kingdom would no longer be in such jeopardy."

"While that may be true," Elrohir answered, beginning to walk toward the street, "it does not matter. "There is no way to change the past, to rewrite Eru's music." Stopping, he added, "If that were possible, I would have done so long ago. Good-bye, daughter of Estel."

Fæderwynn stared after the elf, eyes following until he was no longer visible among the troves of people flooding the streets of Minis Tirith. Running toward the palace, she quickly scaled the stairs, entering into the king's home. Eyes darting about crazily, she hid from passing guards, slipping into a corridor. A few moments later, she found herself in her father's chambers. _Which are forbidden to enter_, she thought, shuddering at the punishment that would have befallen her had her father still been living. Her eyes swept across the main room, studying the rich furniture and decorations that filled the space. Every item within the room seemed untouched, as though her father had never used any of them. One furnishing, however, stood out to the young girl. A large, wooden chest written with Tengwar rested in the corner, behind a large chair. It was worn and used, a sharp contrast to the flawless furniture that adorned the rest of the room. The chest was beautiful and perfect, obviously of Elvish make.

Fæderwynn lifted a cautious hand to the chest, debating whether or not to open the seemingly sacred container. _What will happen if I do? _she wondered, hoping that Eru's divine judgment would not fall upon her for violating her father's privacy. Inhaling deeply, she threw the chest open, revealing only one item within: a flawless jewel hanging from a mithril chain.

_What is this? _she wondered, brows furrowing in thought as she gently turned the jewel in her fingers, marveling at the way the crystal seemed to capture the light, reflecting it back into a thousand different directions. Closing her eyes, she muttered, "If there was some way to make the past right and to save Gondor, I _would _do it."

"_Even if you would undo your own existence in the process?" _a voice whispered in her ear, warm breath assaulting her neck . Spinning around, the girl found herself pinned against the wall by strong arms. A hand closed over her mouth, ensuring her silence, as the voice continued, "Would you truly be willing to alter the past, knowing that you would no longer exist, that you would no longer live?"

Fæderwynn's eyes grew wide as she contemplated her attacker's question. Breathing heavily, heart pounding in her chest, the girl thought, _Would I be willing do such a thing for the man who cared so little for us that he scorned us in life and left us alone in death? _Frowning, she added silently, _I would do it for Gondor, not for him. _

The girl closed her eyes fearfully, nodding slowly. "Will you scream if I remove my hand?" the stranger asked dangerously, shadows hiding his face from view. Fæderwynn shook her head, and the man released his hand from her face. "Something has taken place that should never have been," he said softly, studying Fæderwynn carefully. "The Heir of Isildur is dead."

"Isildur?" Fæderwynn asked dully, mind spinning. "The man who destroyed Sauron and claimed the One Ring for his own during the Second Age?"

"That is him," the stranger answered, rolling his eyes as if in frustration. "Enough history, girl. Your father is dead. He did not fulfill his purpose or destiny. Yes, he did become the king of Gondor and Arnor, but he was meant to be the hope of men. Instead, he is dead and this may very well bring about Gondor's destruction."

"What was he meant to do?" Fæderwynn stuttered, confused. "I do not know what you speak of . . .my father never mentioned any of this." _He never mentioned much of anything_, she thought, sighing.

"I do not have time for this!" the stranger exclaimed in exasperation, echoing Elrohir's words. "You will have to learn the answers to these questions on your own. Time is running out. Are you willing to do whatever is necessary to save your father and save the reunited lands of Gondor and Arnor?"

The girl nodded, not fully understanding what the stranger was asking. "But it does not matter," she said, adding, "There is no way to change the past, and my father is all ready departed beyond the world . . ." Her voice trailed off as she viewed the stranger's frustrated gaze.

"I know of a way," the man answered, backing away toward the door. "You may change the past. However, know that once it has been changed again, the past may not be rewritten. Only once are you allowed to change it, and never will such an action be allowed again. But—" He paused, frowning sympathetically. "You will write yourself out of existence, out of history. You will have never been—neither you nor your sisters nor your family."

Fear gripped Fæderwynn's body as she thought on the stranger's words. _What would it be like to never exist? _she wondered, biting her lip anxiously. Regardless, though, her father had never cared for her family, so what did it matter? "I am willing to do it," she said after a momentary silence. The man nodded, and there was darkness.


	2. Chapter Two

_Disclaimer: All stories, songs, plots, characters, places, poems, etc. that you recognize in this story from any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works belong strictly to J.R.R. Tolkien. I do not own any of them._

* * *

"I see you are waking now."

Fæderwynn groaned, pushing locks of dark, disheveled hair away from her eyes. "Who are you, and where am I?" she mumbled, wiping her face. _I wish I was near a bath_, she thought as she viewed the dirt smudged across her arms and legs. She felt grimy and disgusting and in much need of a washing.

Glancing up at the stranger nearby, she began to feel the faint traces of apprehension, a knot beginning to form in her stomach. A tall, rather handsome man towered over her at over six feet in height, following her every move with crazed, gray eyes. His wild eyes, tense body, and unkempt, reddish hair gave him the appearance of a cornered and frightened animal ready to attack. Overall, he seemed insane. _He could kill me_, the girl thought, slowly backing away. In one movement, the man had her cornered and pinned to the ground with no hope of escape.

"I think that is a question you will answer for me," he stated haughtily, easing his hold on Fæderwynn's arms a bit. "Who are you? The wilds of the world are not the ideal location for a maiden to wander."

Fæderwynn stared up at the man with frightened eyes, unable to speak. He seemed vaguely familiar, but the terrified princess of Gondor was unable to remember where she had seen the stranger before. _He **is **going to kill me!_ her mind screamed as her body began to shake.

"Perhaps you are a spy of the enemy?" the man suggested menacingly, toying with a dagger in his left hand. Stilling, he brought the weapon to Fæderwynn's throat, suddenly hissing, "_Answer me, girl! What is your purpose here?_"

"M-my name is Fæderwynn," she stuttered, finally managing to speak. "I come from—" She paused, wondering how much information she should give to the strange and insane man. "I come from Gondor."

"Gondor," the man muttered, releasing the dagger. "Gondor." His eyes took on a far-away look, as though he was suddenly lost in visions of happier times and places. "Fæderwynn," he whispered, frowning. "That is no name of Gondor." Once again, the dagger was in his hands, at the girl's neck.

Frantically, Fæderwynn added, "My mother is from Rohan. All my sisters and I have names of her country."

"And your father permitted this?" the man demanded, glaring at the trapped girl. "A man of Gondor would rather his children be named in the tongues of foreign places rather than that of his own country?"

"My father was not of Gondor," the girl answered, relieved that the man's hold on her was lessening. "He simply lived there later on in life. And as to why he did not name us in the traditional style, well—" She bit her lip as memories of a dark-haired man, eyes cold and distant, standing beside— Pushing away the unwanted memories, Fæderwynn searched for the right words to phrase her father's dislike of his children without bringing him disrespect. "He was often away on matters of business for the—" She stopped, suddenly asking, "What year is it?"

The man studied the girl oddly, before answering, "It is the year 3018 of the Third Age. Do you not know your own time?"

Eyes growing wide, Fæderwynn's mind screamed, _He **did **send me to the past! What am I going to do-- Regaining_ her calm, she answered herself silently, _I am going to find a way to save Gondor and Arnor, if possible. And end my existence if need be._

"I am sorry," Fæderwynn apologized, quickly adding, _"my Lord_," hoping that this extra courtesy would somehow help to gain both her freedom and her captor's trust. "I have been alone in this place for quite sometime and have lost track of the days."

He frowned, releasing Fæderwynn's arms. "So I am not alone in my quest, then?" he asked, glancing toward the east.

_Quest? _Fæderwynn wondered, raising a quizzical eyebrow. _Perhaps if I act as though I, too, am searching for whatever he is seeking out, he will spare my life . . . _"Yes, I am also searching." Backing away from the crazed man, Fæderwynn asked, "What is it that you seek, my Lord?"

Eyeing her carefully, the man asked, "How do I know that you are no spy of the Enemy?"

"Of Sauron?" Fæderwynn questioned, regretting her words as she saw the man visibly flinch at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. "No, I am no servant of his. I come on behalf of my homeland, to postpone or end its possible destruction . . ."

The man's face visibly relaxed. "So you, too, wish to keep Gondor from falling to the hands of the Enemy?" He studied her closely, waiting for her answer.

"Uhh ... yes," she answered, swallowing nervously. "But, my Lord, _what _are you are searching for?"

Sighing tiredly, the man said, "The answer to a strange dream that has long plagued the sleep of one of my household." Eyeing the darkening sky, he added, "Yet, it seems as though the answer eludes me, for I have sought it for almost a year, and still found no solution." Walking toward Fæderwynn, he added, "Of what you spoke earlier . . . Whom did your father serve?"

"He served the . .. Steward," Fæderwynn lied. "That is why my mother took it upon herself to name us in her own tongue; my father was never home to counter her choice." The man continued to stare at her disbelievingly, but asked no more on the subject.

"The hour grows late, Fæderwynn . . . _of Gondor_," he muttered, closing his eyes tiredly. Opening them once more, he said, "As we are both seeking the same prize, would you wish to accompany me further?"

Fæderwynn's eyes grew wide at the man's request. Visions of what he could possibly do to her in the late hours of the night filled her mind, causing her arm to twitch uncontrollably. However, as the girl viewed the darkening sky, she noticed that the forest surrounding them suddenly seemed more menacing than it had previously. "Thank you, my Lord," she whispered, frowning. "I would be honored to travel with you." _It is not as though I had much choice_, she added silently, searching the surrounding trees for dangerous creatures.

He nodded approvingly, laying a tattered cloak haphazardly upon the ground. Within moments, he was lying on the cloak, eyes closed in sleep. Fæderwynn followed the man's example, sitting against the base of a tall tree. Closing her eyes, she listened for any sounds of the man's waking, hoping that if he attempted to rape her, she would know in advance and be able to escape. However, after only a few minutes, the exhausted princess was fast asleep.

* * *

"Wicglufað, stop singing," Fæderwynn mumbled tiredly, slowly opening her eyes. Squinting from the steady stream of sunlight pouring into her face, she almost jumped when she realized she was surrounded by forest instead of resting within the confines of her own room, back in Minis Tirith. _Where am I? _her mind screamed as her vision cleared and she surveyed the area about her. Remembering that she had encountered a strange man the day before, she calmed a bit, sighing exhaustedly. Moving her tongue against her teeth, she frowned at the awful taste in her mouth and at the stench of her clothes, hoping that she would not encounter anyone worth meeting. _I wonder where that singing is coming from_, she thought, yawning tiredly. Sensing a presence, she lifted her eyes and found herself staring straight into the face of her father's foster brother. 


End file.
